


Setting the Stage

by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly



Series: Daughter of Gotham [1]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:16:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1357216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only daughter of the Wayne and Kane households, Ashlea Wayne is determined to make a difference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Setting the Stage

Alfred looked over at the child, noting a dark fleck of -- yes, that was blood -- staining his young ward's Gray Ghost costume. Anguish pricked, sharp and poignant, in his soul for the loss of his employers, for the child's parents being swept from both of their lives.

"Doctor Thompkins, what are we to do?" Alfred questioned, keeping his voice very low. "All directives indicate that I am to handle custodial issues, with you as adviser to the child, but I know nothing of handling a … " He paused, for she was giving him a bemused look, despite the sorrow lingering in her eyes.

"Ashlea may be a girl," Leslie answered him softly. "But you have more patience and time to devote to raising her than I could find, with my advocation for the poor of Gotham. Thomas knew this, and Martha trusted _you_ with her daughter in every manner possible."

Alfred drew in a deep breath, glancing over to his ward, where he saw that Ashlea had yet to actually finish the cocoa in her hands, that she truly needed to be coaxed into a bath, out of the clothing worn during the dreadful crime, and into something clean and warm. Would it truly be so hard to keep caring for the child as he always had? Since she had ceased to need a nanny, there had been many days during which he was her only company, with Thomas' flourishing career and Martha's charity and society work. 

"I will, madam, call upon your aid as biological changes make further education necessary," Alfred said, conceding to the situation as outlined by the will.

"I will always help you with her," Leslie promised.

* * *

"Miss Wayne."

Ashlea turned to see who it was this time, and found that words escaped her for a moment. She was accustomed to meeting people who were absolutely stunning, but this man stepped beyond that.

Tall and broad-shouldered, with mass that made him solid without being stocky, crowned by a mature face with hidden secrets in those lines around the eyes… and his hair was so striking that Ashlea tried to determine if it were a dye effect or natural, with the auburn color broken with a jagged white streak in the middle of it.

"Mister…?" she responded, even as Alfred frowned a few steps ahead of her, waiting patiently despite the importuning on their time by a stranger.

"Blood, Jason," the man replied, holding out a card to her. "I believe you wish to have a meeting with me."

Ashlea managed to frown, despite the charisma of the man's voice and presence, unimpressed with that opening. Most people who thought they were worth her time certainly weren't. "I don't…" she began, but her eyes took in the words on the card. _Professional Occult Adviser, Scholar of the Arcane_ made her look more sharply its giver. "...think I will be available until later tonight," she amended her original words. "Meet me at nine, at the Brubakery?"

Mr. Blood's mouth twitched into almost a smile and he nodded. "That will work admirably."

`~`~`~`~`

The bakery-deli was not too busy yet; they tended to cater to the theater's massed patrons and then the drunk crowd after last call. Ashlea slipped inside and saw the man at a back table, a steaming cup in front of him. 

"Sorry; traffic," Ashlea said as she took a seat opposite the man. 

"Or perhaps a mugging down on Grummett?" Blood inquired just as Ashlea was shrugging off her jacket in the booth, making the teen look at him fiercely.

"It was Kirby," Ashlea said, just to see how that directed the conversation. So what if she had made a well-placed throw of that piece of brick and made the mugger drop the purse?

"Details… always fuzzy in precognitive dreams." Jason told her, his voice irritable. "Now, young scion of the Wayne and Kane houses, you are curious. Bluntly, I am here to offer you my services as a teacher."

"Why?" Ashlea asked, aware that the man had been drawing something on a napkin. That napkin was now pushed across the table, showing her drawing of a bat with a woman in its shadow. She bit into the tip of her tongue to keep from making a sound, even as her nerves crawled a little. No-one should have any knowledge of that, not even Alfred knew her thoughts there... 

"Because I know you mean to make a difference in the future."

* * *

Ashlea smiled coyly at her date. "I'm glad you got into the school you wanted, Harvey."

"What about you, Ashlea? Where are you going off to after this year?" the handsome senior asked her.

"Oh I don't know," she said airily. "I'm going to have to buckle down one of these days and actually look at whatever it is my company does, but I'm not sure college is for me. Maybe I'll just go see the world and what it's got."

Harvey laughed and leaned in, kissing her briefly. "Gotham won't know what to do with both of us gone, pretty girl. But we'll come home, be back to being twin terrors on the town, right?"

She laughed throatily. "Oh I do plan to be a terror, and Gotham is my home."

* * *

"Gym's closed," came the gruff call.

"I know."

The feminine voice had the crusty boxer turn. Seeing a tall, almost willowy girl… nah, closer to a woman, despite the soft lines… standing there made Ted Grant take a closer look. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he had never been great with names and faces.

"Lost, kid?"

"Actually… looking for a teacher." The young woman gave a disarming smile toward Ted, and he had to shake his head.

"Not really my thing, kid," he said. Never mind that he'd been teaching his friend's daughter on the side, or how he'd shown his own niece Yolanda the ropes. He'd even let that kid from the East End get in lessons, afraid she'd need them in her walk of life. But this newcomer just looked like she was on a lark, all rich clothes and designer sunglasses perched up on her head.

"Mister Grant, I am serious. I need a teacher in boxing, in back-alley style fighting, and no one is better than you at either," the woman said as she stayed right near the door. "This isn't a dare or some whim. I want to know those skills."

"Kid, why would a rich snot like you want to learn how to get dirty with your fists?" Ted asked her, trying to place where he knew her face from.

"Because it might help me one day," she answered. "Maybe if my mother or father had known those type of skills, they wouldn't have died eleven years ago," she added.

The face, those words, all suddenly snapped into focus, and Ted's eyes narrowed. "Knowing how to fight doesn't stop violence," he cautioned.

"But it does give you a chance to survive when violence is all that's in front of you."

"Come on back to the office, kid, and we'll talk."

* * *

Meditation in Nepal. More martial arts in Thailand. Survival skills in Kenya. 

Now she was in Morocco, to study more in science, literature, and philosophy. She'd even made a friend, a woman by name of Talia, studying under the same scholar. It was such a new thing to find a mind as sharp as her own, with a passion for honing the body as well. The shared intensity in their time together had forged a tie that Ashlea was still exploring.

"Come home with me, this weekend; come away from here, and just let us enjoy life this once!" Talia entreated.

There were so many reasons why Ashlea should have said no, but she nodded. "I think that would be fun, Talia," she answered.

`~`~`~`~`

Ashlea gingerly pulled her jacket on, then picked up the carry-on in the hand of her uninjured arm. She knew it was time to leave, time to finally take up her mission. Meeting the al Ghul family had rammed that point home, with all the entanglements it had caused. She could not afford to meet the potential _he_ had seen in her, to become the woman with all the money and passion, but no connection to reality.

As painful as her arm was from that fight to stop _him_ in his plans, it was the look of purely jealous hate on Talia's face that she would never forget, and might never heal from. All of her life, Ashlea had longed for her father's approval, her mother's care. Talia had brought one point home; a living parent might not have ever filled that need after all.

* * *

"Miss Ashlea, are you going to remain down here for long?" Alfred asked, looking only at his ward. She had applied her engineering skills adeptly, reinforcing the cave for her needs, but it still bothered Alfred at times how intent she could be on this plan.

Would there be no family at all in her future? No friends?

"Yes, Alfred; I think I have the design almost ready and want to try fabricating some of it tonight," she told him. "Why don't you go on and go to bed? It won't be my first late night."

"No, Miss Ashlea, it will not be that. I just do wish you had given more than two days to your return appearances in the city before returning to work like this." He did respond to her smile in his direction, giving a small one of his own.

"Alfred, I promise I will be very visible as both my parents' heir and as Gotham's protector," she said to reassure him before returning to her work.

* * *

Alfred walked around his ward carefully, inspecting the suit for imperfections. A few times, he reached out to probe what looked like vulnerable gaps, and found the resisting under-armor. That made him nod in approval as he finally came to a stop in front of the young woman. Those who thought they saw vulnerabilities would be sorely disappointed.

"Will it do?"

The deepened voice had just the right roughness to it to be mistaken for a solid tenor rather than Ashlea's normal alto.

"Your voice lessons have paid for themselves in full, and it is distinctly masculine. Between your height, the suit's bulk, and your care in your words, I believe you have succeeded, Miss Ashlea. The 'Batman' will pass muster, and hide your true identity."

Ashlea gave a tight smile at that. "I'll be careful to speak as little as I absolutely must. I debated adding a full mask with voice enhancement, but a clear airway may be more vital at points."

"So long as you do have a mask for times when the air is not safe," Alfred enjoined. "Do you plan to test it this night?"

"Yes."

He did not let that instant answer phase him at all. "Then I shall make a light dinner, and have something simmering for your return," he promised.

"Thank you, Alfred. For everything."

"For all of my misgiving, Miss Ashlea, over this endeavor, I can only support the task you have set upon your own shoulders. I do understand both the need of the city, and of your heart." He reached out to adjust the fall of the cape, not looking up into the blue eyes of his ward. "You would never have been dissuaded by any amount of words to the contrary." Now he did look up, and let his pride in her mingle with the concern.

She gave him a truer smile for that, and turned to go remove the armor, so she could eat before her first official patrol of the city as Batman.

**Author's Note:**

> Bruce means thick brush, so we searched for a nature-meaning feminine name, bringing us to Ashley which means meadow or forest clearing. And proceeded to change to one of the less common spellings, because we're just that way.
> 
> There are a lot of teachers I did not show as being involved. I wanted to mostly focus on the ones more likely to reappear in later parts.
> 
> This will be updated as the parts are readied.


End file.
